


untitled Frozen ficlet

by papyrocrat



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Gen, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2014-07-05
Packaged: 2018-02-07 15:07:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1903563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/papyrocrat/pseuds/papyrocrat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elsa, learning to cope with her powers</p>
            </blockquote>





	untitled Frozen ficlet

In the months since her coronation, their daily walks have grown pleasant for her and, she suspects, downright routine for Anna. But Anna never abandons her post, never fails to buffer the outside world with her curiosity and her _joie de vivre_.

And since then, summer has taken its leave of its own accord. Nobody has let on that they blame Elsa for the chill or their waning harvests.

But then, who would? They may blame her privately, keeping such treasons quiet out of fear of their queen, rather than love for their country.

They may even be right.

She wonders, more than usual today as they make their way to the port. The farmers have retreated to the edges of town to store their harvest. The merchants have moved their wares indoors. Winter has come to Arandelle, uninvited.

Perhaps today’s walk is not so pleasant.

Anna squeezes a soft arm around her waist. “Elsa, you’re shivering!”

“I’m fine.”

“Exactly!” Anna lets go and skips backwards before curling back around Elsa’s arm and smiling. “You can feel cold, sister! Just like the rest of us!”

But Elsa doesn’t feel like the rest of them, she’s sure. Cold happens to them, around them, they can shut it out with hoods and walls; they can know it will relinquish them to the summer. They feel cold, perhaps bitterly, but Elsa _is_ cold, always, she has never quite known where she ends and November begins.

Today, November is white and angry and everywhere she looks.

Something cracks deep beneath their feet.

 _Crack._ She jerks away from her sister. _No, no, I can’t lose her, not again._

 _Crack_.

“Elsa?”

“I’m doing it. It’s my fault.”

“It’s not your fault.”

But she is doing it; even Anna can’t lie about that. She tries to breathe slow and deep, but the air fights her body the whole way down, screeching like rock against rock, ice against ice.

 _Crack, crack, crack_.

Dockworkers start to shuffle off to their preferred pubs. There is little for them to do when the water freezes.

“It’ll be okay, Elsa.”

“You can’t know that,” she snaps. “I mean, thank you, but there aren’t guarantees about this.”

“Sure I can.”

She entertains her sister’s hope, if only for the distraction. “How?”

Anna juts a confident little chin up at the bright afternoon sky. “You know, you haven't managed to block out the sun.”

Elsa arches her eyebrows.

“So it’s gotta melt sometime.”

Elsa pulls a little bit at her gloves, unremarkable royal fussiness to others, perhaps, but a sign to her sister. _I hope so, let’s go home, I love you, **don’t touch me**_.

Anna holds up her palms and beams. _Roger that_. “How about we go back to the castle for some hot cocoa?”

“That sounds wonderful.”

“Good, because I asked the cook to make some for everyone before we left.” Anna runs to a slick patch and swings into a pirouette, her arms loose and expansive but her footwork strong and sure.

She watches her sister’s freckles catch the sunlight, and Elsa smiles too.


End file.
